


getting caught (ain't always a bad thing)

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets. [127]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Domestic, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 03:32:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: When Jesus wakes up to an empty apartment on his day off, he decides to use his time in the shower for other purposes.Naturally, things don't exactly go as planned.(Spoiler alert: they go way better.)





	getting caught (ain't always a bad thing)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crookedspoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/gifts), [lizzicleromance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzicleromance/gifts).



> written for a Merry Month of Masturbation prompt, which was "Jesus getting off while thinking about Daryl? :'D" 
> 
> this fic is technically a companion fic to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10789995) fic, but can be read entirely separately!

The morning is well underway by the time Jesus opens his eyes. 

For once, the neighborhood is quiet, as if it somehow knew that it was his day off and he’d wanted nothing more than to sleep in. The sun is streaming through the windows, warming the bed so that he feels like a black snake stretched across the tarmac, sunning itself. He stretches his arms above his head and uses his feet to push the thin sheet they’ve been using as a blanket since summer started towards the end of the bed. 

If Daryl was here, he’d either be still passed out with his face jammed into his pillow or be watching television in the living room and grumbling about something with his face shoved into a mug of black coffee. As is, he’s gone to work, and Jesus has a vague memory of feeling Daryl’s mouth pressed against his cheek, remembers mumbling _bye_ without bothering to open his eyes, but that could have been minutes or hours ago. 

After taking a few more moments to bask in the sun, he rolls onto his feet and shoves his hair away from his face. Based on the smell drifting in from the kitchen, Daryl’s left a pot of coffee for him, and while a cup (or three) does sound heavenly, he definitely needs a shower first; lovely as the warmth of the sun feels, it’s left him with a thin sheen of sweat covering his bare chest and face. 

He sheds his sweatpants and briefs, kicks them into the corner of the room towards their overflowing laundry hamper, and heads towards the bathroom. It still shows the signs of Daryl’s morning routine; there’s a half-empty coffee mug resting on the windowsill, discarded clothes litter the tiles, and the side of the bathtub is still dappled with water that has yet to evaporate. Jesus takes the mug and, after only a moment of consideration, takes a sip. It’s bitter and sun-warmed, but he polishes it off before returning it to the windowsill. 

He loves Daryl, really, but there’s a reason they have to scrub coffee off the floor at least once a week. 

He flicks the shower on, waits for the water to reach a temperature above lukewarm, and steps inside, treading carefully on the slick floor. Their water pressure is better than the first shithole they’d lived in, when they’d just started fumbling their way through their relationship, but it’s still not great, so it always takes a few minutes for his hair to get wet enough to properly shampoo. More often than not, he just ends up staring at the wall, planning out his day as he waits. 

But today, he’s still half-hard from waking up, and he doesn’t have any reason to rush his shower. The only plan he has for the day is to do some tidying up, and that can definitely wait a few minutes. 

Tilting his head back so that it’s more centrally under the spray, he reaches down and takes hold of himself. There’s enough water to make his skin a little more slick, so he starts moving his hand slowly, tightens his grip once he’s gotten fully hard. 

He closes his eyes, partially so that water doesn’t get into them and partially so that he can concentrate. His mind immediately turns to Daryl, but Jesus resists the urge to search for a memory he could relive; there’s so many of them that, frankly, it’s overwhelming to try and pick out one in particular. Instead, he focuses on more static images, mental photographs rather than videos. Even then, it’s hard to narrow his focus. There’s just so much about Daryl that he loves; the dense musculature of his arms and shoulders, the solid weight of him, the way his back flexes and twists when Jesus fucks him into the mattress. 

It’s that last image that gets him biting back a groan, but before he can move his hand faster, the bathroom door bangs open. 

He loses his footing and nearly falls over; it’s only the shelf jutting out of the wall that saves him from falling on his ass. Quickly scanning the various bottles scattered around the shower, he grabs what he thinks is the heaviest before he glances beyond the sheer shower curtain to determine who just barged in.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Daryl, which somehow makes him feel simultaneously more and less embarrassed. 

“Hey,” he says, setting the bottle back down and tugging the curtain aside so that he can stick his head out. “I thought you were working today.”

“Supposed to be,” Daryl says, leaning back against the sink. “Gas pipe burst somewhere near the store, can’t get anywhere near the damn place. Spent the last hour tryin’ to get back here. Fucking traffic is a nightmare.” His eyes lower to where Jesus is still half-hard, and when Daryl glances back up, there’s a light flush on his cheeks. “Am I interrupting something?” 

“I just started,” Jesus shrugs. “You’re more than welcome to join.” He wiggles his eyebrows ludicrously, just to see Daryl roll his eyes. The offer is only half-serious, and he’s reaching backwards for the faucet when Daryl starts working at the buttons of his cut-off flannel. 

“Guess a second shower can’t hurt,” he mumbles, shrugging the shirt off his broad shoulders. “It _is_ hot as fuck outside.” 

Jesus grins and steps back under the spray of the water. 

This is shaping up to be a _great_ day off.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
